


Rebuilding Draco Malfoy

by khasael



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Glompfest, HP: EWE, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2011-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khasael/pseuds/khasael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco wants to do something to get his life back on track, but no-one seems to be taking him seriously – until he finds himself in an Auror training session led by Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebuilding Draco Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ user Aydenclare for the 2011 Glompfest at SerpentineLion.

Reputation was everything.

It was a lesson handed down from his father ever since Draco could remember. There was the legacy of the family name to consider (and Mother had had it worse, as she was managing both the Black name and the Malfoy name, jointly), to start with. And then there was the individual reputation to build and, later, uphold. His father had spent his lifetime becoming a force to be reckoned with, someone to fear and admire and wonder about, and Draco had been brought up to seek the same sort of path.

Then, of course, that fucking madman had returned from the almost-dead and sent everything to hell.

All of his father's connections had dissolved. No one feared him any more; at least, not in a way that commanded respect and obedience. To some, he was a bogeyman of sorts. But more often than not, he was a cautionary tale. _This is what happens when you choose the wrong side_ , people whispered. Draco had heard them. His father had too, though he had been better at ignoring it and turning away than Draco was. Not their money, not their pure bloodline, not their family history in the wizarding community, and not even the testimony at their trials from the bloody saviour to the world could do anything to change what had happened.

The Healers said Lucius Abraxas Malfoy had died of heart failure, natural causes brought on perhaps by the stress of the war, or even guilt over his actions. Draco knew better.

The bastard had taken the easy way out and killed himself.

He'd left Draco to care for Narcissa, who had already been ill. She hadn't been well since Draco had been forced into service for Voldemort, though she kept that from nearly everyone. It had only taken two months – two bloody months – for his mother to pass away, finally at rest next to the only man to whom she had ever pledged _her_ loyalty.

Their deaths left Draco with the Manor, the Malfoy family vault, guilt he didn't think he'd ever be free of, and not a small amount of anger. It also left him with a reputation tarnished enough that no one ever seemed likely to give him a fair shot at anything ever again. Unless he had Harry Potter lead him around and make introductions ("This here is Draco Malfoy. He's not really as evil as you think. He's a prick, yes, but not evil") to everyone around him for the rest of his days, he would be doomed to a life of holing himself up in the Manor and going mad from loneliness.

It also left him with a _lot_ of spare time.

After nearly two months of sitting around with nothing to do but fume and ride his broom along the grounds, scaring peacocks when he flew too close to the ground, Draco decided enough was enough. He would fix his reputation. He could take the control over his own life he'd always wanted, but had never been able to acquire

It was time to rebuild Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Rebuilding his reputation, Draco realised, was going to take a hell of a lot of work. Nothing he could think of to do would change the opinions of the population. In fact, he was at a general loss about what to do at all, other than be the nicest person he could possibly be.

The idea was about as appealing as it was probable.

Completely void of ideas, he tried to schedule an appointment with the Minister of Magic. The dumb bint of a secretary Minister Shacklebolt employed never seemed to know when he would be in, and insisted he was booked solid for meetings and conferences for the next three months anyway. It didn't keep Draco from trying. Eventually, the Minister would have some free time. And besides, shouldn't he be pleased to know that someone on the wrong side of the war was trying to improve himself?

It took three weeks of effort, but finally Draco found the Minister in a place where he couldn't Apparate away. In the loo of the Leaky Cauldron, Draco took his limited opportunity, ignoring the uncomfortable look on the Minister's face. It wasn't as if Draco was looking _down_ , for Merlin's sake. "So if you have any suggestions, I'd really be very grateful," Draco finished earnestly as the Minister rushed to the sink to wash up.

"Have you thought of philanthropy?" he finally said, drying his hands and looking longingly at the door behind Draco. "Harry Potter's testimony excused you from any severe war reparations, so I would imagine you could do some good in that direction."

Draco mulled that one over. By the time he had opened his mouth to thank the Minister for the suggestion, the man had already left and, no matter where he looked, Draco could not find him.

* * *

Draco spent a week researching different efforts that might benefit from a sizeable donation, but none of the ones he found seemed prestigious enough to help his reputation much. Besides that, he felt the growing need to actually _do_ something to redeem himself. He wasn't _afraid_ of hard work, no matter what some of his schoolmates had assumed. He had simply been a fan of doing things in the way that caused the least amount of headache.

The time for options of that sort was long gone.

When he happened upon a tiny little article in the _Prophet_ about the Ministry's proposed new special project, everything seemed to click. He nearly spilled his tea down the front of his robes.

>   
> _  
> **Ministry to Begin Death Eater Hunting Squad**   
> _
> 
> _In an owl to the press on Tuesday morning, Auror Gawain Robards, head of the Auror Department and co-chair of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, announced the DMLE's plan to form an elite squad of Aurors whose sole purpose would be to hunt down underground Death Eaters, both known and rumoured._
> 
>  _The squad will be comprised of currently active Aurors, as well as a few select individuals chosen from civilian ranks, and will replace the department's former Hit-Wizard squad. All members will have to pass a strenuous exam before they are considered fit for this privilege…_

Draco dropped the paper onto the table, nearly upsetting his tea for a second time. That was it. He could join the new squad of Death Eater hunters! He had already been thinking about a way to use his strengths to his advantage, but was coming to the realisation that his Potions competency might not be enough to get him a position in a Healer's apothecary, let alone with St Mungo's. He would have to be twice as good as Snape ever was for someone to even _think_ of giving him a chance like that in this post-war world. But this…

Who better to join this squad than someone who had had Death Eaters living in his own home during the last year of the war? Who else would know their habits, some of their rituals, some of their secrets? Maybe all of those horrors he had endured during those months hadn't been completely in vain? Oh, he might not be able to go undercover, not having a Dark Mark, but he could still be of some significant use.

After marching down to the Ministry and locating the office of the Auror Recruiter, Draco sized up his competition. There were five blokes and one woman waiting ahead of him. Two of the men looked intimidated but eager, the other three looked like they had similar parentage to Hagrid and couldn't be intimidated by anything short of a dragon ready to stomp them flat, and the woman looked cool and a bit disdainful, though she probably wasn't any more than eighteen years old.

He didn't bother trying to make allies amongst this lot. He would worry about that once he was on the squad.

When Alastor Gumboil finally barked for him to enter the room, one of those nervous-yet-excitable fellows scurrying away from the office as he did so, Draco was less than pleased. He had been standing in the corridor for over an hour. A number of people had passed by him leaning against the wall, and more than one had pointed and whispered to their companions. Draco considered them very lucky he had decided to redeem himself; otherwise, he might not have thought twice about hexing them with an embarrassing affliction.

Auror Gumboil looked at the sign-in sheet Draco had signed when he had arrived. "Malfoy, eh? Lucius Malfoy's son?"

"Yes sir." Draco stood a little straighter, wondering if this man had been one of his father's Ministry connections.

"All right, you've had your fun. Go home, son. I don't know what you're trying to do, but I won't tolerate nonsense. I have people to recruit."

"That's why I'm here, sir. I wanted to join the new Death Eater hunting squad."

Gumboil let his rather prodigious jaw go slack. His lips twitched minutely. "You... you _what_?"

Draco cleared this throat. "I could be of assistance to the cause. After all, many of them lived in my home during the last year of the war. I know more about their daily habits than some of the current Aurors, I'd imagine. I wanted to put my knowledge to good use."

Gumboil had gone an alarming shade of purple. After a few moments of silent shaking, he let out a great snort. "You? Work with the DMLE? Oh, that's rich, son!" He snorted again so hard it turned into a brief coughing fit. "I don't thank you for wasting my time, but that _was_ the best laugh I've had in a while. But off you go. Leave me to deal with the people who are serious about joining up, would you?"

Draco balled his hands into fists. "But I _am_ seri—"

"No," Gumboil said abruptly, wiping at his eyes. "You're not. Now go home." When Draco didn't move, Gumboil flicked his wand and Draco found himself pushed towards the office door. " _Home_." With an unceremonious and unseen push, Draco stumbled out the door, nearly falling to his knees in the corridor just outside the office. He looked up to see three other wizards and two witches looking at him with looks ranging from curiosity to disgust. "Imagine," he heard Gumboil snort as he ushered in one of the witches standing nearby. "What cheek."

Face burning, Draco straightened his robes. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

* * *

If there was one useful lesson he had learned from his father, it was that there was nearly always someone higher up to whom you could take your grievances.

The morning following his meeting with Gumboil, Draco found himself sitting in a well-worn leather chair in Auror Gawain Robards' office.

Unfortunately, he did not seem to be getting much further in his plans to join the Death Eater hunting squad. But at least there was no laughing, and he hadn't been physically removed from the room.

Robards was giving him a very long look. "I understand your desires here, Mr Malfoy, I do. But there simply isn't a way I can let you on the new squad." He began ticking off reasons on his fingers. "No matter your Ministry-decided punishment – or lack thereof – you _did_ lead Death Eaters into Hogwarts, putting the lives of students in danger. There's no one in the squad who would be willing to trust you with their life, and that is of vital importance with this team. You never did sit your NEWTs, and thus did not earn the required marks for the special squad, and you're not one of the exceptions to the NEWTs requirement, as they were personally hired by the Minister immediately after the war." He sighed. "Look, you seem perfectly earnest, that I'll grant you. But I simply can't, just because you're tired of where society has placed you."

Draco refused to take no for an answer. He forced his hands to unclench on his thighs. "What if I made a donation to the squad? I could kit them out in new gear, perhaps throw in some things the DMLE has been lacking in equipment." This likely wasn't what the Minister had had in mind when he had mentioned philanthropy, but it would technically be helping the wizarding community. Draco had a sickening feeling this wasn't that different from the conversation his father had had with Madam Hooch back at Hogwarts, and pushed the thought aside. He had earned that position, hadn't he? He had beaten other teams with skill, and not because his father could pay his way onto the team.

Robards sighed deeply. "Much as we could use the funding assistance, Mr Malfoy, the answer is still no."

Draco begin to feel his hope crumbling beneath him. It had been a last resort. Money often spoke more elegantly than pleading words, but even that seemed to have its limits.

"Although..." Robards leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his chin. Draco tried not to let his face betray his curiosity as the other man mused to himself for a few more moments. "I can't put you on the new squad, Draco, no matter how sincere you might be, or what your reasons are. But if you were willing to make a donation like that, I _might_ be able to get you a chance to try out for the regular Auror squad."

Draco caught himself before he lashed out, but only just. He took a series of deep breaths and forced himself to consider the opportunity. "A try out?"

"Yes. It might not be as glamorous as what you were envisioning, but it is something. Of course, no matter how much money you donate, you'll still have to go through the same qualification exams everyone else does. What do you say?"

He didn't like it, but he was starting to come to terms with the fact that this might be his best option, short of throwing all of his money into an orphanage or a wing at St Mungo's. "I'll take it. A guaranteed chance to try out for the Aurors in exchange for kitting out the new Death Eater hunting squad."

Auror Robards stood and held out his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Malfoy. Report to the Auror office for orientation on Monday, eight A.M. New group starts then."

Draco took Robards' offered hand and shook it. "Yes, sir." He would make the most of this, no matter how he hated it.

Whatever it took to rebuild his reputation.

* * *

When Draco arrived at for the orientation session for the Auror Trainees, he began to wonder just what the hell he was doing, after all.

There were fifteen desks set up in three neat rows of five. At ten to eight, all but four of them were occupied. Draco slipped into one in the back corner, but that did not stop many of the others from turning his way. He saw one of them — a witch who had been two or three years behind him in school, and Hufflepuff, if Draco remembered correctly — do a double-take. He ignored her. Let her stare. He had a right to be here.

Auror Robards entered the room precisely at eight, less than a minute after the last potential Auror had slid into his desk, looking flushed and sweaty. Robards stepped to the front of the room and surveyed them all. "Well, everyone made it. That's impressive enough. Let's get started, shall we?"

He cleared his throat. "You're all here to try your hand at a career in the Auror Corps. There are a variety of reasons you've signed up, but that doesn't matter here. What matters is that you understand the basics, and you keep to the rules.

"First: this isn't a glamorous position. It's not all exciting chases, and getting your photograph in the _Prophet_.

"Second: while we will be giving you basic training during these next four weeks, this will _not_ be easy on you. We have no interest in coddling you, and not everyone will pass the exams.

"Third: don't worry about anyone else but yourself. You'll have your hands full with everything we throw at you.

"And fourth: if you think I'm trying to scare you off, or blow smoke up your arse, keep in mind the average length of service for an active Auror is only thirteen years, and that nearly half of those who leave the Auror Corps do it the same time they leave this plane of existence."

Robards paused to survey them all. From his spot at the back, Draco could see two of the other wizards exchange glances. After a few moments of silence, both of them got up and left the room, closing the door behind them quietly.

Robards nodded as if he had expected this. "Now. If everyone else is serious…?" He waited and then gave the briefest of smiles. "Good. Then it's time to meet those who will be training you in preparation for your exams." He looked towards a side door and nodded. Seconds later, the door flew open and a line of six people walked in to stand at the front of the room behind Robards. "Trainees, these are your instructors." He gestured to the first man in line, who stood solid and imposing at the head, looking at them all unflinchingly. "John Dawlish." Behind Dawlish stood a slender, blonde witch with high cheekbones who reminded Draco for one aching moment of his mother. "Ravena Howerton." Robards went down the line, naming Kenton Savage, Charles Williamson, and Aegon Proudfoot in order, pausing only briefly before announcing the last instructor, who had tucked himself away behind the fifth Auror's large frame the moment they had entered, never quite visible from where the new recruits sat. "Harry Potter."

Potter appeared as Proudfoot and Williamson moved, ducking his head in reluctant acknowledgement of the students sitting before them. Draco could hear surprised whispers and murmuring. He sat completely still, simply looking up at the line of Aurors who would be teaching him what he needed to attain his new goal. Potter caught his eye for just a moment, an unreadable expression crossing his face, before Robards took his place at the front again.

"Your instructors will be rotating amongst groups of you for the next four weeks. Important as it is to teach new recruits well, these six are far too important to take completely off active duty on a regular basis." Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Potter make a face. What was _that_ about?

Robards sent each of them a large stack of parchment from a massive pile behind him. "Take these home and read them. Consent forms, liability waivers, and an outline of what you'll be learning in training, as well as more detail regarding a career with the Aurors. Peruse these carefully, and if you agree, fill in the appropriate paperwork and show up back here at nine tomorrow morning for your first full day of training." He looked around the room, slowly trailing his eyes over each one of them. "May Merlin grant you luck." And with that, he made a gesture of dismissal.

Most of the other potential Aurors gathered their cloaks and left, leafing through the sheaf of parchment. Draco waited until they — and the instructing Aurors — had gone before he took hold of his stack of papers and walked towards the door.

"You're really going to go through with this, aren't you, Malfoy?"

Draco turned. Potter was standing against the wall, looking at him oddly, arms crossed against his chest. "Yes. I am. Have something to say about it?" He couldn't keep the taunt out of his voice.

Potter shook his head minutely, a faint look of disbelief and amusement surfacing for just a moment. "Good luck, I suppose."

Draco nodded and walked stiffly out the door. Potter hadn't said any more than those four words. He didn't need to. Draco could hear the rest of his message clearly:

 _You'll need it._

* * *

Draco had expected the first day of Auror training to be difficult. He had expected it to be tiring. He had even expected it to be strenuous, both mentally and physically.

He had not expected it to be a display of immaturity.

Really, he should have known better. Hadn't he found himself here because of the way society treated him, and his desire to change that? He had been getting dirty looks from strangers since the end of the war, and there was no real reason to think that would change the moment he stepped onto the training field with the other Auror hopefuls.

If anything, it was worse.

The Hufflepuff from the first day kept giving him wary looks as Dawlish went over basic defensive spells, as if she thought she might have to use them on Draco to keep herself safe. Two squat blokes named Saunders and Palmer kept smirking at him, as if they were just waiting for a chance to do something nasty. And Elliot, that fucking lumbering prat, had actually tripped him as they queued up to practise Impediment Curses. Draco had forced himself to relax his grip on his wand, reminding himself that unnecessarily hexing his fellow trainees would only cement the way people saw him. But that didn't mean he couldn't have brief fantasies involving the finger-removing jinx.

By the end of the day, Draco had acquired a small burn, two blisters, four new bruises, and the desire to see five of his twelve fellow trainees incapacitated in embarrassing ways sometime during the duration of their training. Around the time McMullen had sent Draco flying into a desk shoved into the corner with a casual-sounding "whoops", Draco had caught Potter and Proudfoot exchanging glances. But as no one said anything, Draco had simply picked himself up, forced himself not to rub at the tender spot on his hip, and queued back up for more punishment.

The second day fared not much better than the first. After a morning in which Williamson droned on and on about Occlumency, Draco found himself looking across the large room at the group learning Concealment and Disguise charms. Potter, who had oddly been off to the side both days of training, not doing much other than giving an occasional suggestion or tip, was leaning against the wall and stretching his neck from side to side. Draco took just a moment to admire the line of Potter's jaw and the look of relief on his face before Williamson barked at him. "Malfoy? Daydreaming, are we?"

Draco could feel Williamson trying to rifle through his mind, but he shut it down in short order. One didn't survive in a house full of Death Eaters — especially not while in the presence of Voldemort himself — without more than a slight skill in Occlumency. Severus, and later his mother, had taught him well. "Not at all, sir." He neither needed nor wanted anyone to know he had just been staring at Harry Potter in a vaguely inappropriate way. Was it Draco's fault the man looked as if the last few years of Auror work had agreed with him?

Williamson stared at him a moment, not very subtle in his attempts at Legilimency, and slowly smiled. "Very well then," he said, looking almost impressed. "But at least pretend to be paying attention, hm?"

Draco smiled to himself, not even caring that Saunders was sneering at him. He could do this. He could pass these exams and show these bastards that he really did belong here.

* * *

He couldn't do this.

By the end of the second week, Draco's confidence was starting to come unravelled. It wasn't the tests that measured his reaction time that were a problem. It wasn't that his skills in identifying poisons, antidotes, and other potions were lacking. He had so far been fair in Charms and Transfigurations.

It was dealing with those training with him that was doing it.

And Potter wasn't helping.

To be fair, Potter didn't _know_ he was contributing to Draco's problems. All he was doing was staying out of the way, for the most part. Draco had still yet to figure out if he was purposefully avoiding him, or if he was simply not doing much other than general supervision (which, really, didn't make much sense, either. This was Harry Potter, Vanquisher of Dark Wizards. Why was he always just standing around, looking irritable?).

Unfortunately, Potter always hanging around the periphery of things meant that Draco had had more than a few chances to simply watch him. Out of that watching had come curiosity. And out of that had come something he hated to admit to himself — desire.

It wasn't like Potter was going around dousing himself in water and striding around with translucent fabric clinging to his every angle. He wasn't giving Draco — or anyone else, for that matter — seductive looks. He was only standing there, looking intriguing and mysterious (and oddly fit, for someone who had looked so scrawny for much of his school years), and occasionally catching Draco's gaze as if he was trying to solve some mystery Draco was keeping locked away behind his eyes.

And it was invariably these moments when Draco would slip just enough for someone else in training to get the better of him.

" _Incarcerous_!"

Ropes wrapped themselves around him with alarming speed and, within moments of Drusilla's shout, Draco found himself lying face-first on the floor, trussed up like a Christmas goose.

Fuck. He was spending _entirely_ too much time tied up lately.

Drusilla Everwood was still standing over him, most likely grinning ear to ear, when a large, thick pair of Auror-issue boots stopped in front of Draco's nose. _Now_ what? "Good a time as any," Potter's voice said from up above, and the bonds around Draco's body disappeared, leaving him sprawled on the floor. They really could do with a good sweeping, now he noticed.

By the time Draco had picked himself up off the floor and dusted himself off, Potter had gathered everyone around in a circle. "Seems an appropriate time to teach you a new wandless technique. You've all learned a few wandless spells — disarming, summoning, levitation, that sort of thing. How about we try to get out of restraints while wandless? I'll demonstrate, and then you'll take turns trying. Gather around."

They all watched as Potter sat himself in a chair and Savage tied the ropes that had been holding Draco around Potter's waist, ankles, and wrists by hand. When Savage nodded and stepped away, Potter looked up at them all. "Now watch. This is ninety percent spellwork, ten percent movement."

He murmured a few spells that Draco recognised from one of their earlier lessons and paused to explain whenever he added anything new. But around the point where Potter had managed to undo the rope at his ankles, he started to squirm in a way that made Draco feel warm.

It was distressing, watching Potter fidget like that, face going a bit flushed as he shifted and rubbed and wriggled. Draco's palms were sweaty by the time the last bit of rope fell from Potter's waist onto the floor. "Any questions?" he asked, slightly breathless, and Draco had to close his eyes for a moment. "All right. Your turn. Partner up. Manual bonds for now; _Incarcerous_ later."

As Draco had suspected would happen, the other twelve trainees paired off immediately, leaving him odd man out. Potter surveyed them all with pursed lips and turned to Draco. "Any objections to working with me, then?"

Draco somehow managed to find his voice, which miraculously sounded as if he hadn't just been thinking about Potter squirming around doing other things. "No."

"Good." Potter conjured another chair, the first having been appropriated by another group. "Sit. Let me tie you up."

Draco swallowed hard and did as he was told. "Shouldn't I be resisting?" he asked, attempting to keep his voice light.

"Maybe we'll try that another time," Potter said after a pause that was just a bit too long, and Draco's heart did a funny little tripping beat. "Hold still for now."

Draco could feel Potter behind him as he cinched a rope around Draco's middle, and he tried to look bored. He tried to breathe normally when Potter knelt down in front of him, securing his ankles to the legs of the chair and looking up to see how Draco was doing. Potter caught his eye and a small smile so brief it might have been imagined passed over his face.

By the time Potter got around to doing his wrists, Draco was ready to take back any earlier thought of spending too much time tied up lately. He could feel Potter's fingers at his wrists, tightening the bonds, working quickly and brushing the tender skin there as the ropes were pulled tighter. "All right," Potter said into his ear, breath tickling in a way Draco found incredibly erotic, "try to escape."

The thing Draco discovered quite quickly was that it was awfully hard to escape your bonds when you didn't actually _want_ to. After watching him struggle for a few moments, Potter sighed. "Okay, look. I find this works best if you have a clear goal in mind. Sometimes, I'll think 'loosen the left wrist, so I can twist this way and have more give to undo the right', or 'once I get this leg free, I can use it as leverage'. Try something like that."

Draco nodded. "Right." Taking care to guard his thoughts, just in case someone might want to try a random bit of Legilimency, Draco thought, _if I get my right hand loose, I can pull Potter down and snog him senseless._

It was amazing, really, how easy it was to get out of his bonds then.

"Wow, Malfoy. Nice showing," Potter said with a raise of his eyebrows. He gestured with his head to the other trainees. "Much better than everyone else." After a moment, he furrowed his brow and laughed. "I think Palmer's actually got himself tangled tighter than when he started. I'd better go and help him."

As Draco watched Potter help the struggling oaf overcome his bonds, he realised that, for the first time in days, he felt he could handle this again.

He wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it.

* * 

Draco was just starting to accept that the Auror Corps was going to be a part of his life when everything came crashing down around him.

It had been a difficult morning — with less than a week left until the final exams, their numbers had dipped just a bit already. The Hufflepuff who'd been giving Draco looks the first week had left training crying last week after a failed attempt at in-the-field Healing Charms, and had never shown again. And one of the quieter blokes — a wizard named Shaw who had been exceptional at stealth and tracking charms, and who'd never once given Draco problems — had simply had a stress-related breakdown, been sent to St Mungo's for a severe attack of nerves, and had come in this morning to officially withdraw. With their exams so close, things were only getting more difficult.

Savage had them gathered around a creaky-looking chest, and Draco had a sense of foreboding. Whatever was inside was rattling around and making mournful noises. He saw Elliot lean over to Saunders and Palmer. "Boggart, I bet," he whispered. Draco saw with a bit of satisfaction that even he looked a bit nervous.

Savage looked at them all with raised eyebrows. "Well, let's see how everyone else's nerves are today, shall we? Exposure training. Whatever comes out of this box stays for thirty full seconds before you're allowed to cast _Riddikulus_. Saunders?"

Saunders stepped forwards from the group and nodded tersely. Savage flicked his wand and removed the lid. They all watched as a large, black crow rose up and gave a piercing caw. After a stammering attempt at the thirty-second mark, Saunders managed a successful _Riddikulus_ and turned the thing into a butterfly. Everwood went next, her boggart turning into a werewolf who looked remarkably like Greyback, only to turn into a puppy after an incredibly fast bit of spellwork when her time was up. When Elliot took his turn, a ginger witch with too much makeup rose before them and gave a piercing shriek not much different from a banshee's. She went away after Elliot shakily managed to mute her and turn her into a Muggle mime when his turn came. "My fucking ex," Draco heard him murmur to Palmer as he walked from the front of the room. "If you met her, she'd be your boggart, too."

When Draco stood at the front of the group and waited, he tried to figure out what he would turn his boggart into. If he saw both his parents' rotting bodies, perhaps he could turn them into mummies? Those had never bothered him. The sight of himself in prisoner's robes could be fixed with a change of wardrobe or, if truly drastic measures needed to be taken, a set of handcuffs and a handsome bloke dressed as a prison guard standing behind him. He took a deep breath and waited.

What came out of the box was nothing he had expected.

Before his boggart took full shape, Draco knew what it was. It was the sound that told him, that deafening roar he knew he had no chance of ever forgetting. Fire rose in a high plume, spiralling as it took the shape of a Basilisk.

Draco forgot how to breathe.

The Basilisk reared back and seemed to study him. Draco tried to tell himself to cast the incantation that would change this into something harmless, not even caring that his thirty seconds weren't up, but his arms hung heavily at his sides. His fingers felt so numb, he could not even be sure he still had hold of his wand. His heart beat so fast he thought it might leap out of his chest, and when the Basilisk morphed smoothly into a Chimera that prowled around him, circling him in flame and screaming in Crabbe's voice, Draco could take no more. He dropped his wand and sank to his knees, unable to see an escape, unable to think, unable to _breathe_.

" _Riddikulus!_ "

Laughter hit Draco's ears then, and as suddenly as it had come, the heat of the Fiendfyre dissipated. A hand hauled Draco up from his spot on the floor and locked around his bicep. "Malfoy. Hey! Look at me, damn it!"

With supreme effort, Draco raised his head and looked into the startlingly green eyes of Harry Potter. When had he arrived? Draco couldn't even recall him being in the room since the boggart exercise had begun. "Potter?" It was all too real, too vivid. The Fiendfyre, the sound of Crabbe screaming as he was engulfed in the cursed flames, the feeling of Potter pulling him out of there when he should have been left to the same fate.

"Yeah. Hey. Time for you to go home."

Draco's panic found a new foothold. "You're dismissing me from the programme?"

Potter shook his head. "No." He gestured to the clock on the wall above the door. "Time for everyone to go home. Day's over." He nodded over Draco's shoulder, apparently communicating with someone else in the room. He gave Draco's arm a squeeze that nearly hurt. "Seriously. Home." And then he walked away.

Draco could feel his hands trembling, so he shoved them in his pockets and went to gather his cloak. "Aww, poor little Malfoy," Elliot murmured, standing over him. "Had to be rescued by Harry Potter because he was afraid of a little Basilisk and a Chimera."

Draco stood up as quickly as his shaky limbs would let him. "Shut your mouth," he growled. It wasn't the Basilisk he was afraid of, nor the Chimera. It was the fucking _Fiendfyre_ , the vivid reliving of that moment in the Room of Hidden Things. But he couldn't explain that to Elliot, and even if he could, he _wouldn't_. As far as he knew, no one outside of Potter, Weasley, Granger, Goyle, and the few members of the Wizengamot present at his trial even knew about that moment. And that was the way it was going to stay.

He shoved past Elliot, not even caring that he outweighed Draco by a considerable amount, and walked out of the Ministry on legs that sill felt stiff, the sound of Fiendfyre still in his ears.

* * *

After quite a bit of arguing with himself in the hours before sunrise, Draco got up the next morning, showered, forced himself to eat something, and put one foot in front of the other until he was riding the lift to the DMLE. Even if he failed at this, even if he didn't have what it took to be an Auror after all, he wasn't going to let Elliot and the others like him have the satisfaction of seeing him quit. Quitting was something people expected Draco Malfoy to do.

He wasn't that Draco Malfoy any more.

Saunders and Palmer nudged each other when Draco stepped into the training room, but he ignored them. Over near the coffee pot, Everwood gave a little huff and turned her back on him. Draco reminded himself that he didn’t care what she — or any of the others, for that matter — thought. He was here, and he was going to finish what he started. Even if he did ultimately fail, he was going to make it known he had tried.

He pushed his way through the day, ignoring the taunts and sniggers and flat-out insults the other trainees tossed at him whenever their instructors were out of earshot. Though he had told himself repeatedly that nothing they said mattered, he knew it wasn't entirely true. It still stung, serving as a reminder of his shortcomings — the ones he knew, deep down, he'd never be rid of.

He was the last one remaining at the end of the day, taking a few much-needed moments to shake the last of the taunting from his head before making his way home. It shouldn't hurt like this; this wasn't even something he had wanted, not that long ago. The thought of taking this career path would have made his younger self laugh until he cried, no matter the reason for the decision. And when he had first stepped into this room, he had only wanted to do something to rebuild his name, hoist his reputation into a position deserving of the Malfoy name's former glory.

How had he become so wrapped up in this, especially when the chance for failure was so great?

Draco took a deep, drawn-out breath, and dragged himself towards the door. Almost done. At least there was that.

"Hey."

The single word was nearly a whisper, but Draco still recognised Potter's voice. "Did you need something, Potter?" Draco asked wearily. He wasn't in the mood. If Potter had wanted to dismiss him from the programme, he should have done it yesterday.

"I just needed to tell you something before you left for the day." He took a deep breath, let it out, and laid a hand gently on Draco's shoulder. "You're going to make it."

Draco paused. Surely, he couldn't have heard that correctly. "What?"

"You're going to make it into the Aurors. I know it. I just thought you should hear it, since it doesn't look like you know it, too."

"What in Merlin's name makes you think that's going to happen?" He was genuinely baffled. Had Potter not been watching closely enough?

Potter gave him a very small smile, and it took his words to make Draco realise he wanted to be more expressive, but either couldn’t or didn't know how. "Because you came back. I've seen other people quit over less, Malfoy. I wasn't even sure you'd show up ever again, though I had hoped you would. One thing I have learned about you, Malfoy, is that you're stronger than anyone else thinks. Maybe even stronger than _you_ think. And I know that you can prove it."

Draco just stared. Potter stared back, not looking away for a moment. "You're…you're being genuine, aren't you?" Draco said after a moment. Potter's hand was still on his shoulder, a steady, warm weight that seemed to drag Draco fully back to himself from the fog of discouragement that had been shrouding him all day. "You believe that."

"I do."

Draco smiled back tentatively, and nodded. "Thank you."

Potter gave his shoulder a light squeeze, his touch lingering for a moment in a way that sparked Draco's nerves and sent a small charge through his core. "Sleep well tonight, Malfoy. Last day of training tomorrow. And it'll be a tough one." And with that, he left the room, grinning to himself as if he'd accomplished something only he knew about.

Draco didn't miss Potter's look back over his shoulder, or the way he turned pink when Draco caught him before he scurried off. Draco smiled softly to himself. His day had certainly improved in the last five minutes.

He was still grinning to himself that night, replaying the flush of Potter's cheek, the earnest look on his face when he felt the necessity of getting his message across, and the way he had dragged his fingers over Draco's shoulder before letting go. He didn't even bother to keep his ridiculous and unattainable fantasies in check as he showered.

It felt good to wash the grime of a tough day away, but it felt better to imagine it was Potter's hands doing so. He closed his eyes in the shower, picturing the focussed look on Potter's face Draco saw so often in training as he squeezed soap into one hand and worked it into a lather, stroking himself slowly. He imagined the rivulets of water running down his back to be Potter's light, teasing, trailing touches as he explored Draco's body, covering every centimetre with reverent caresses.

It didn't take long for Draco to get himself off to thoughts of Potter. Of course, it also meant he couldn't _stop_ thinking of him. Draco would allow himself this unfettered fantasising for tonight. After all, Potter _had_ told him to get a good night's sleep, so as to be better prepared for tomorrow's tasks. And he always slept best after a good shag or a wanking session.

He drifted off with a smirk on his face, thinking about wanking for the good of the Auror squad, the ghost of Potter's touch warm on his shoulder.

* * *

When Potter had mentioned that the final day of training before exams would be difficult, he hadn't been kidding. In fact, if anything, he had been downplaying things.

As soon as the last of the trainees had arrived this morning, Robards, Potter, Savage, and Proudfoot had grinned at one another, confiscated everything from the trainees that wasn't a wand, and ordered them to the front of the room where an old cane — a Portkey, Draco realised, before Savage confirmed it — lay on the podium.

"So… where exactly are we going?" Everwood asked warily. Draco understood her hesitation. Most of them were wearing either standard robes, or ones cut to fit a bit more closely to the body, in case they were duelling or practising other combat techniques. But it was a scorching day outside, and there was a very good chance most of them weren't wearing robes with built-in cooling charms. Draco knew he wasn't; he didn't want to potentially ruin those robes, and so they stayed at home during training.

"Outside," Proudfoot said with a large grin. He was met with a collective groan. "Oh, grow up. How much time do you think Aurors get to spend inside an office with full temperature regulation spells? Welcome to the real world."

The Portkey dropped them all in the middle of a field littered with debris. Draco just managed to keep from tripping over a bit of scrap metal jutting out of the earth. He looked around and sighed. "Let me guess. Crime scene procedures."

"Very good, Mr Malfoy," said Robards with a smirk of amusement. "Let's see what you remember from lecture. Keep in mind, this will likely be on tomorrow's exams. Miss Everwood?"

Drusilla looked around helplessly for a moment before offering an answer — the correct one, as it happened — and they were off. Four hours later, Draco was hot, sweaty, dizzy, shaky, and, he suspected, sunburned. Only two things comforted him: first, he had actually learned a fair amount by being able to put things in lecture into practice; second, everyone else — Auror instructors included — looked just as miserable as he felt.

"You've all earned a brief break for lunch," Robards told them as they assembled back near the Portkey he'd placed in a safe place when they'd arrived. "Follow Aurors Potter and Howerton, if you would. Thirty minutes. Then we move on."

Draco didn't even have to think about which Auror he'd be following. Potter had flashed him an encouraging smile earlier in the day, ruined only when sweat ran into his eyes and caused him to squint. Draco knew nothing would come of it, but it couldn't hurt to fantasise a bit.

"Look," Potter said when they made it to Diagon Alley moments later, "I'm not here to babysit. You've got twenty-five minutes. Make the most of this break. There will be days at work where you won't even get that." And with that, he turned and strode away, leaving the four other trainees who had followed to shrug and wander away on their own.

"Mind if I tag along?" Draco asked, catching up to Potter, who shook his head. He didn't particularly fancy meandering aimlessly, or eating on his own. Besides, it was too hot to eat. All he really wanted was a cold drink, or perhaps —

"Ice lollies."

Potter said it with true longing, stopping in front of a small shop Draco had never noticed before. Draco looked at him, eyebrows raised. "What are you, five?"

Potter made a face. "What? You're not hot? I can't fucking eat in this heat. I just want something cold. Come on. Have one with me."

Draco sighed. There was something highly appealing about the thought of frozen treats, childish as it was. "All right."

Potter smiled at him. "Good. Which flavour are you getting?" he asked as they stood in front of the small display. Draco looked around. The shop was tiny, offering only a small assortment of drinks, snacks, and magazines. There was one bored-looking assistant at the counter, leafing listlessly through today's issue of the _Prophet_.

"Cherry, I suppose," Draco said with a sigh. He hadn't had something like this since he was a very small child, a treat his tutor managed to sneak in on a hot day such as this one. "What about you?"

"Blue."

"Blue's not a flavour, Potter. Heat fried your brain?"

"It's good enough as a flavour to Muggles," Potter said with a shrug, digging in his pocket and placing enough money for the both of them on the counter. "Take your boring cherry ice lolly and let me have mine."

"It's not boring," Draco muttered, settling on a shaded wooden bench not far from the shop. He unwrapped his treat and sucked lightly on the tip of it. Oh, that felt _divine_.

"If you say so." Potter crumpled his wrapper and vanished it away. He ran his tongue from the bottom of his ice lolly to the top, giving the tip a little swirl. "Ugh, so good."

Draco paused. Seeing Potter do those things with his tongue had given him a sudden spate of visual images that nearly overwhelmed him. "Exactly what I was thinking," he murmured. He licked absently at his ice lolly, lost in a day dream. The cherry ice was soothing, though it was melting rather quickly. He looked up from licking a bit that threatened to drip onto his hand, to see Potter staring at him in a very familiar way.

Draco suddenly forgot all about the misery of the morning.

In fact, he was so caught up in eating his ice lolly as erotically as possible and watching Potter respond in kind, that he almost didn't notice when someone behind them cleared their throat. Potter started. "Auror Robards," Potter said around the mouthful of blue ice he'd just bit off the stick.

"Gentlemen," Robards said flatly. "If you two have finished fellating those ice lollies, it's time for our next task."

Draco quickly finished the last of his dessert, wincing when a sharp bolt of pain stabbed through the spot behind his eyes. "Right." He looked up to see Potter's sheepish look as he got up to follow Robards to where the rest of the group stood. Draco's face was hot, and it had nothing to do with the sun. What had he been thinking? Perhaps he could blame the stress of training, or heat stroke? He could hear Robards mutter, "…swear to Merlin, I thought Potter was over his competitive streak. What an odd thing to compete about…" Draco relaxed. Well, if they weren't going to be reprimanded for lewdness, or teased about what might just have been flirtation, so much the better.

But he knew what he'd seen. And he was positive Potter knew what had been going on as well.

This was going to play hell on his ability to focus.

* * *

As it turned out, Draco found he _was_ still able to focus on the training task at hand, as long as the task was actively happening.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Draco muttered. They had been split up into groups for an exercise in stealth and tracking, with one person guided by an Auror instructor and the others trying the techniques that they had been given beforehand, trying to suss out which would be the most effective in apprehending a suspect. It had gone well enough, Draco evading Everwood and May who weren't bad in their own right, until the sky above them opened up and drenched them all.

"All right!" Potter shouted over the sound of thunder and pouring rain. "You two — May, Everwood! Apparate to Howerton's group and check in with them. If their location isn't rained out, check with her for instructions. We'll likely finish over there. If they're having the same sort of weather, just head back to the Ministry. Malfoy and I will catch up to you."

"And why exactly are we staying behind to be drowned like rats?" Draco asked irritably as the other two trainees Disapparated. His robes were soaked so thoroughly they were wrapping around him and binding to him as effectively as an _Incarcerous_.

"I sort of lost my badge in the downpour," Potter said, looking very sour about the whole thing. "And the _Impervious_ isn't working well enough for me to see. So help me, damn it."

Draco struggled to free his wand and succeeded only in tangling himself in his robes. "That's it!" he shouted, flinging his soaked robes to the ground. He had thought far enough ahead to wear trousers underneath his robes as, the last time he'd been hoisted by the ankles, he'd been quite indecent until Howerton took pity on him and let him down. "This is bloody ridiculous! Think like a wizard, man! Aren't you an Auror, for fuck's sake? _Accio_ Potter's badge!"

"Ow, fuck!" Potter shouted. "Well, I've found it, but I can't get to it. It's caught in my bloody robes." He finally managed to undo the buttons to his robes, letting them fall in a sopping pile at his feet. He bent over to rifle through them, and Draco was presented with a very unexpected view of Potter's backside, the soaked fabric of his underpants and shirt now translucent and clinging to his skin.

It was suddenly very warm, despite the rain.

As Draco watched Potter move, his arse still in the air, he realised that the little he was wearing was completely ineffective as far as concealment was concerned. All this rain hitting his overheated skin reminded him of his shower last night, and the thought of what Potter's hands might feel like on his body. And seeing Potter virtually nude… Draco shifted uncomfortably and felt the wet fabric of his trousers drag across his half-hard cock.

Fuck.

"There! _Finally!_ I'm sorry, I…" Potter trailed off as he turned around and caught a glimpse of Draco's growing erection before Draco had a chance to grab his clothing and hide himself. "Er. Um. Yeah. Sorry I forced you to stay," he said, now looking anywhere but at Draco, who now wanted the earth to open up as quickly as the sky had, so he had a place to disappear. "Are you… ready… or did you want to, uh, wait a minute?"

Draco struggled with his robes for a moment and considered attempting about thirty seconds' worth of _Obliviate_ on Potter. Who was he kidding? He was never going to out-manoeuvre Potter. "I'm ready." A quick drying charm the second they were out of the rain would fix this problem. He just prayed Potter wouldn't say anything about his current… condition.

Potter's mouth twitched in a grin. "If you say so." He stepped beside Draco and refastened his badge. "Though I suppose it wouldn't hurt to say this is yet another time you've shown me an impressive side of yourself?"

With a crack, Potter was gone, leaving Draco to stand there, gaping, before he remembered where it was he was supposed to be Apparating.

Even if he failed tomorrow's exams after all, Draco thought this a very informative and life-altering four weeks.

* * *

Well, Draco supposed with a feeling of exhaustion, Robards hadn't been kidding about one thing — Auror entrance exams weren't a walk in the park. He was battered and sore and his brain might as well have been porridge, for all the good it was doing him. Between the defensive practical, the general physical, the stress test, the three-foot arrest procedure written essay, and the potions and antidotes identification practical, he was a shambling mess of a wizard. An Inferius had more chance of being a functioning member of society right now.

"You look like you've just about had it," Potter said from his spot near the kettle as Draco gathered his things from his cupboard. He was the last one out of the exam room. "How do you think it went?"

"Fuck if I know," Draco sighed. "I think I fucked up at least half a dozen times. And the shite part is, we won't even hear the results for two weeks. Two weeks of beating myself up until I find out I didn't even pass."

Potter rolled his eyes. "I popped in for a bit of that, actually. I don't think it went as badly as you assume. Not for you, anyway. Not everyone might be that lucky."

Draco didn't want to let himself get his hopes too high. "If you say so. Look, Potter, I might as well say this now, in case I never see you again. Thank you. Thank you for not stooping to the level of my fellow trainees, thank you for not asking if I bought my way into the training class, and thank you for everything you taught me in the last four weeks. It was an eye-opening experience."

Potter looked at him peculiarly. "I could say the same."

Draco held out his hand, noticing that there was a burn mark across the back. When had that even happened? "If I don't see you in the future…" He paused. What? What could he even tell Potter. _If I failed the exam, please know it was a pleasure working with you and wanking to thoughts of you when I needed to relax?_ No, that wouldn't do.

Potter smiled slowly and shook Draco's hand. "I think you'll be seeing me sooner than you realise."

* * *

An owl appeared four days later, bearing a Ministry band around its ankle and carrying a plain envelope with it with nothing but "Mr D Malfoy" on the outside. Somehow, Draco knew this was what he'd been dreading.

> Dear Mr Malfoy,
> 
> Please come to the DMLE, room 249, upon receipt of this letter. You will find the room accessible to you, no matter the hour. Please come ready to discuss business.
> 
> No reply necessary; only your immediate presence.

Draco swallowed and racked his brains trying to figure out what this meant. Had he done that badly on the exams? No, that couldn't be it; results wouldn't be in for over a week still. After several minutes, during which time he discarded three sets of robes for ones that made him look competent and impressive, he finally realised what it must be: the details of his financial donation. None of that had ever been completely finalised. He took a deep breath to steady himself and Apparated to the Ministry.

The Atrium was deserted; the few Floos still active glowed minutely in the dim lighting. But the lift still came for him, and Draco took that as a comfort. He still had the letter clutched in one hand. Room 249. He had never been there before, but knew it had to be tucked in the far back corner of the DMLE, in the office that was always empty.

The Auror department looked quite different this late at night. There were three Aurors on duty — Howerton the only one he recognised — sitting around a table with cups of tea and chatting quietly about last weekend's Quidditch match, but that appeared to be it for obvious staffing. Draco walked past Robards' office, dark and locked, and kept going down the corridor. After taking two more turns, he reached room 249. There was a dim light on inside, and the shadow of someone at the desk. Draco knocked softly and stepped inside, wondering what kind of accounts manager kept such late hours.

"Potter?"

Potter sat behind the desk, playing idly with an envelope in his hands. "Malfoy. You got my letter."

"This was from you? Why didn't you sign it? I thought I had a meeting with the world's most unorthodox accountant."

With a grin, Potter shrugged. "I wanted to keep this private. This isn't exactly above board, you know. Sit, please."

Draco situated himself and looked around. It was an impressively-sized office, but utterly bland. It didn't look like it had ever been used. "Is this your private office?"

Potter made a face. "Yes. Not that they can make me use it. Drives Robards mad, I think, but I really don't care. He knows very well I'd prefer to be at my old desk out there, still on active duty. I suppose I should count myself lucky he considered the training position safe enough for me." When he saw the confused look on Draco's face, he sighed. "I'm too valuable to risk, it seems. So it's sitting safe and sound as much as possible, if he can help it. Boring as hell, actually." He straightened up. "But forget that. I suppose you're wondering why you're here."

"Very much so."

Potter got up from his chair and moved around the desk, sitting on the top of it, directly in front of Draco. "Promise me you won't let this conversation leave this room?"

Draco hesitated. "Should I be making that sort of promise?"

Potter laughed. "Very good. You'll do nicely."

"Do nicely for what, exactly?"

With a shake of the head, Potter smirked. "In a moment. First things first. We've got to know each other a bit over the last month, correct?" Draco nodded. He certainly knew Potter better now than he had before stepping into the DMLE for the first time. "Would I be wrong in saying there have been times things seemed a bit awkward between us?"

"No…" Draco said slowly. "I don't suppose you would." Where was this going?

"Good. Then I'm going to just lay it out for you, Malfoy. I've seen the way you looked at me. I thought I was misreading you for a while. But after yesterday, with the ice lolly incident Robards so unfortunately interrupted, and then that…uh…with the rain…?"

Draco cleared his throat and flushed. Potter looked about as red in the face as Draco felt. "I didn't mean —" Potter didn't let him get any further. He leaned forwards quickly and brushed his mouth over the corner of Draco's jaw. Draco just gaped at him for a moment. Finally, his brain muscled through the shock and took in Potter's earnest and somewhat terrified expression. "Okay, so maybe I did mean," he said slowly. He stood, situating himself between Potter's legs, and dipped his head so that his lips just touched Potter's ear. Oh, Merlin, the amount of trouble this could cause if he was wrong… "Tell me, Potter: why am I here right now?"

"Two reasons," Potter whispered. "The first being I couldn't do this while I was training you." He turned his face to the side and met Draco's mouth with his own. Draco parted his lips and let Potter's tongue slip inside his mouth. He tasted of over-sugared coffee but, really, it was sort of nice.

"And how long have you wanted to do that?" Draco asked a moment later, wondering if Potter could hear the beat of his heart in the silence.

"Since the day you came back after the boggart exercise. Perhaps before. But that's when I knew. That's when I knew you weren't the same Draco Malfoy I thought I knew in school, nor the shell-shocked Draco Malfoy I knew during the Wizengamot trials. You're someone else entirely." He placed a soft kiss along Draco's cheekbone. "Someone new. Someone I want to know better."

"You can get to know me all you want," Draco breathed, pressing himself closer. He could feel Potter getting hard up against him, and that knowledge was all it took for him to let himself go.

Potter slid his hands into Draco's robes. "Promise?"

Draco nodded, hissing when Potter pinched one of his nipples. "Promise."

Potter smiled against his neck and pulled Draco down atop the desk with him. "Just what I wanted to hear."

There was something inherently taboo about this, playing dirty in Potter's office so late at night with Aurors sitting in the DMLE proper. It only made this more thrilling than any of the fantasies Draco had yet had. He had a hard enough time remembering to spell the door locked and casting an Imperturbable charm with Potter's greedy hands and mouth exploring him more thoroughly than any of his daydreams. And when Potter spun them both around and bent Draco over the desk, Draco was suddenly _very_ glad for the privacy charms.

"I have no idea how this has happened," he said, shuddering as Potter slid slowly inside him. "But fuck the Auror Corps and their ridiculous exams. This is better."

Potter shut him up with a light bite to Draco's shoulder. "No. Not the rest of the Corps. Just me."

Draco laughed. "Right."

Potter was ridiculously gentle at first, and it wasn't until Draco pushed his arse back into him that he gasped and really started moving. "About fucking time," Draco groaned. "I've only been wanking to thoughts like this for the past week."

"Well, I might have acted sooner, had I thought you had any interest. And if I'd seen your competence with stealth charms." He reached forwards and stroked Draco in time to his thrusts.

"Funny. Look who's breaking the rules now," Draco gasped. Fuck, he wasn't going to last long. "Just like that, Potter. _Please_."

He let out an embarrassing whine as he came, but Potter only dug one hand into Draco's hip and grunted, reaching orgasm a few short moments later. They slid down to the floor together, hot and sweaty. "Remind me," Potter said, breathing hard, "to conjure some padding next time."

"Next time?" Draco asked with a laugh. "There's going to be more sex at your desk? What reason will you have to get me to the DMLE in the future?"

Potter shook his head and _Accio_ ed the letter he'd been playing with when Draco had entered the room. "Oh, I don't know," he murmured, handing it over. "Seems to me I could find plenty of reasons for one of the newest Aurors to spend time in my office."

Draco ripped the envelope open, taking in the official Ministry seal at the top, Robards' signature at the bottom, and the note of congratulations placed between them. "You're serious? But it's only been four days, not two weeks."

Potter laughed. "Head games. We've known since an hour after each of you finished the exam." He took the letter out of Draco's hand and set it carefully aside. "Ready for your first assignment, even if it's unofficial?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps. What is it?"

Potter tipped his head forwards and kissed him softly. "Show off your stealth charm skills. Get us out of here without being noticed. I promise I'll reward you if you're successful."

With a grin, Draco nodded. The old Draco Malfoy might not always have been up for a challenge.

But this one was.


End file.
